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Archive name: homeland.txt (MMF, reluc, work)
Authors name: David Shaw (david@f-e-mail.com)
Story title : Home Sweet Homeland
--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 2002. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
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HOME SWEET HOMELAND (MMF, reluc, work)
By David Shaw (david@f-e-mail.com)
***
Female Washington bureaucrat emails her secret thoughts
to the wrong man at the wrong time. Now some Homeland
Defense agents want to get to know her a lot better --
and if you thought the IRS was intrusive...
***
"Elisabeth, can you come into my office at once, please?"
Elisabeth Manning looked up from her computer screen,
surprised at the somber tone in Willard Aldredge's voice.
He was usually a pretty unemotional sort of a boss, the
kind of steady going and rather dull bureaucrat to be
found in any government department in Washington. Then
again, Elisabeth would have had to use much the same
words to describe her own life; steady and dull. But
something or someone had obviously got Willard fired up
today. He was standing outside her cubicle with an
expression on his face like an Enron accountant who'd
suddenly figured out the real figures. Shocked and tense
and very unhappy, that was how Willard looked.
"Sure. What's the problem?"
Willard didn't answer. He simply gave a shake of his head
like a horse bothered by flies and stepped back to let
Elisabeth walk in front of him. And it didn't need any
female intuition to let her know that somewhere, somehow,
the turds had really hit the turbine. So what could have
happened to have caused major trouble for the Department
of Transportation, and especially for that section of it
responsible for drafting safety regulations?
There were three people waiting in Willard's office: two
young men, and an even younger looking woman. Mid to
early twenties, all neatly dressed in conservative
business clothes, all staring at her with sharp, hard
eyes. One of the guys spoke first; mid height, stocky,
with hair as fair as Elisabeth's own, perhaps sharing
some of her Scandinavian genes in his ancestry.
"Thank you, Mr. Aldredge. Could leave Ms Manning with us
for a while?"
"Sure, sure. Take as long as you like."
Elisabeth turned and gaped at the sight of her boss
allowing himself to be thrown out of his own office by
this upstart college boy. Willard might be an pretty
easygoing guy but he was always a stickler for the rules
of the departmental game, and one of those rules was that
nobody pulled any of his staff in for an investigation
without Willard himself sitting in on it. Hell, that was
her right as well, to expect her supervisor's support in
a crisis.
"Willard, what's this all about?"
"Mr. Heynig will explain things, Elisabeth. Bye."
The office door closed, Willard was on the other side of
it, and she was alone with these three kooks. Oh God, had
a 747 gone down, or what? The stocky one flashed a fancy
looking ID card.
"Scott Heynig, Ms Manning. Investigating agent for the
Department of Homeland Security."
Elisabeth felt as if she was going to faint. It was worse
than an accident, it was a terrorism thing and somehow
one of her safety regulations had failed to stop an
attack.
"You don't look too good, Ms Manning. Don't worry,
nothing's happened. Not yet, anyway. Here, sit down."
Oddly, the agent guided her towards the fancy leather
desk behind the desk. It was certainly the best seat in
the office: it should have been, it had taken a six
months battle with the accounts office for Willard to get
it.
"Sit here, Ms Manning. Or can I call you Elisabeth?"
"Yes, of course."
"A nice old fashioned name."
It was the other guy who'd spoken. In a kind of a
sneering way. He was different again, tall and slim,
olive colored skin, good looking in a Latino film star
style. He was sitting down on the corner of the desk on
her right and Scott Heynig was perching himself on the
desk on her left hand side. Elisabeth felt hemmed in, as
though she was under guard. It was an impression, which
strengthened considerably as the girl drew up a visitor's
chair and sat down on the opposite side of the desk
before opening up a notebook computer.
"I'm Catherine Haught. Also an investigator with Homeland
Security."
Even under her present distracting circumstances,
Elisabeth couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for
Catherine. Her suit was expertly tailored to do the best
possible justice to her figure, but, as any passing star
fleet engineer might have remarked, ye canna alter the
laws of physics. And, in Catherine's case, the laws of
physics had decreed that no amount of sharp tailoring
could effectively enhance a dumpy body with a bust line
which was far more bust than line. Worse yet, a face that
could charitably be described as 'strong-looking' topped
it off. Indeed she bore a passing resemblance to a young
J. Edgar Hoover, which was perhaps a professional
advantage but hardly a romantic one.
Elisabeth often felt vaguely guilty about inheriting a
metabolism which maintained her figure without any real
effort on her part, while so many women had to walk
around looking like Catherine. She also wondered what
sort of physical performance standards Home Security
operatives had to meet on recruitment and how Catherine
had ever managed to waddle through them. But what she
really wanted to know was why two - three? - Homeland
Security people wanted to talk to her.
The Latino guy spoke again: "Jarrel Rohr: investigation
agent, Homeland Security."
OK, three of them then, but why? Why was an HS team
breathing down her neck? OK then, two guys in an
investigation team were breathing down her neck and also
inspecting her own bust line as though it might explode.
Elisabeth fought down a panicky urge to giggle: a 36C bra
packed with plastic explosive could do some serious
damage if it went off.
Scott glanced over to the girl: "Catherine, show
Elisabeth the ECHELON intercepts."
Catherine turned the computer around on the desk so that
Elisabeth could read the screen. Her stomach felt as if
she'd swallowed a beaker of battery acid and with
undeniable reason this time. The computer screen was
showing extracts from the emails she'd been exchanging
with a guy Elisabeth had been doing some very serious
flirting with over the last couple of weeks. Flirting,
fuck, the pair of them had been screwing each other's
brains out - virtually speaking anyway.
"What the hell?"
Scott's authoritative voice rode straight over
Elisabeth's outrage.
"Have you heard of ECHELON, Elisabeth? It's not exactly a
secret, the European Parliament even had a debate about
it a while ago, but it's not publicized much here in the
States.
"ECHELON stations are only based on US soil or on the
soil of our closest allies, the UK, Canada, Australia and
New Zealand. They intercept huge amounts of telephone,
fax and email messages from all around the planet: some
reports say maybe up to three billion messages every
twenty-four hours. The ECHELON computers scan each
message for suspicious words or addresses. And it happens
that the guy you've been writing to so freely is on our
watch list of suspected terrorists. That's why ECHELON
has been copying all the emails he sends and receives,
and that's why we're here."
Elisabeth gaped at the agent in stunned disbelief: "But
he's just a guy I met in a chat room. His name's Jesse
Kansas, he lives in LA. He seems like any other guy. Why
would I think he's got anything to do with any
terrorists?"
"His offline name is Abbas Sarak, he was born in the Gaza
strip, and two of his family have been suicide bombers.
We think he has links with Hamas. But it's true he can
pass as an ordinary American citizen. There's no reason
why he shouldn't, he's been living in the States since he
was five."
"But I didn't know anything about any of that! I was just
chatting to some guy in LA!"
"Chatting?" The other guy, Jarrel, was grinning at her.
Elisabeth felt her cheeks flush as she realized they must
all have read the emails she'd sent to Jesse, or whatever
the hell is name really was. Oh, God!
Scott edged an inch or two closer to her along the edge
of the desk: "Elisabeth, let me explain how the system
works on something like this. A red light comes and a
team like ours goes out to check on whether it's a
genuine alarm or a false one. And if we decide it's a
false alarm and sign off on that, then we get the blame
if we've made a wrong call. If there's an incident down
the track which leaves thousands of US citizens dead and
it turns out it was because this investigating team made
a mistake ... well, our careers would be the least of our
worries. We'd probably end up squatting inside cages in
Cuba ourselves. You'd understand that."
Elisabeth nodded: her throat had suddenly tightened as if
a noose was being put around it.
"OK, so what we do first off in a situation like this is
a background check on the subject we're interested in.
That's mainly pulling together our computer sources. So
when I checked on you, Elisabeth, I found Ms Straight as
an Arrow lady. Elisabeth Mary Manning, aged 32, has
worked for the Department of Transportation for seven
years, married to a nice guy called Peter for three
years. Peter is a lobbyist for the chemical industry,
doing very nicely, thank you, and you live with your nice
guy as a nice couple in a nice twelve-story condominium
with a nice view of the Potomac River. Nice seems to be
the only four letter word I can find in your background,
Elisabeth. Maybe it should even be stamped in big gold
letters across the cover of your dossier."
He got up and walked over to the window, looking out
across E Street towards St Dominic's Church: "What do you
think, Jarrel? Do you think Ms Manning is nice?"
Jarrel had folded his arms and was grinning over them
down at Elisabeth. "Sure, she's nice. Nice long blonde
hair, nice face, nice figure, nice boobs. Yes, Elisabeth
is certainly nice."
"Hey!" Elisabeth protested at the agent's comments on her
breasts.
"Elisabeth," Scott cut in, "I think I really need to make
you understand where we might be going from here. Now,
one choice is to say that you're this altogether nice
lady who just happened to get in touch with the wrong guy
and now you know the score, the problem's over. If you
worked for an insurance company and your husband was a
dentist, that's probably what I'd do. I'd just warn you
about not contacting Abbas Sarak again and then walk out
of your life. Unfortunately..." Scott's voice trailed
off as if he was unwilling to break some bad news. He
glanced towards the female agent.
"Catherine, let's hear from you."
Catherine gave Elisabeth the sort of smile a wolverine
would give a trapped rabbit.
"But you don't work for an insurance company, Elisabeth.
You work for the Transportation Department and since
9/11, that's become one of the most sensitive areas of
government administration. Plus your husband knows just
about everything there is to know about most of the
chemical plants across the country. You two are a
terrorist's dream couple: you can tell them how to hi-
jack a plane and your husband knows exactly where
crashing it will cause the most damage to a target city.
No way will I certify you're in the clear until we've
done a positive check on you and your husband."
"Yes, that's our problem," Scott agreed, still speaking
as if he were rather regretful about the situation.
He came over and sat on the desk again, even closer to
Elisabeth.
"Or rather it's your problem, Ms nice lady Manning. You
see, when people know that Homeland Security have got an
interest in somebody close to them, they get very antsy.
To do a positive check, we have to ask around. Once the
Transportation Department knows about your contacts with
a possible Hamas link man, well ... I guess they
couldn't just up and fire you, Elisabeth, but I think
you'd be well out of the loop promotion wise. In fact, I
think you'd probably find yourself working your time out
in some cubicle so far down in the basement that you'll
be able to hear the trains going past."
"Of course, it's your husband we'd really be sorry
about," Jarrel added. He didn't look any sorrier than
Catherine Haught did.
"My husband? Peter? Why?" Elisabeth was now very alarmed
indeed.
"Think about it," Catherine suggested in a smug way. "A
lobbyist who has Homeland Security going around to all
his contacts warning them to be careful about what they
say to Peter Manning? How much lobbying will he be doing
after that? He'll never see the inside of another office
in Washington. I doubt if he'll even find anybody willing
to sign him into any Federal building long enough to take
a leak."
"But this is crazy!" Elisabeth protested. "I'm a
patriotic American citizen, and so is Peter. We'd never
betray our country. I had no idea who I was emailing
with!"
Scott half turned towards her, lifted up his well
polished shoe and pushed against the side of her swivel
seat until it had moved around for Elisabeth to be facing
him.
"Well, that's it, Elisabeth, that's what we've got to
decide on, here and now. Do I tell your boss that
everything is fine and give him a memo of thanks for his
department's co-operation? Or do I go back to my boss and
tell him that Elisabeth Manning needs some serious
checking out? Just for starters, we're going to need to
speak to all the guys from your school and college
background about your sexual behavior. Because, according
to your emails, you seem to have some problems there.
Well, if I was your husband, I'd certainly call them
problems. Have you ever told him about what happened in
the boatshed at that summer camp?"
Jarrel sniggered as the hot tide rose even closer to the
surface of Elisabeth's face: "Nothing like that ever
happened," she said. "I was just role playing, that was
all. Making up a story to send to a guy I was fooling
around with. Some day I'd like to be a writer and maybe I
let my imagination run away a bit."
"Your imagination!" Catherine was smiling in open
disbelief. "Some imagination."
Jarrel was laughing as well: "Elisabeth, you even
described the type of boat you got bent over. I'm with
Catherine; if your imagination is that good you should be
working in Hollywood instead of Washington."
"Let's just recap on what you wrote to Abbas, Elisabeth,"
Scott said. "You told him that you were at a school camp
in the mountains working as a counselor. While you were
swimming with another counselor you saw two boys pick up
your bags, wave to you, and then go into a boatshed. So
you and your friend followed them into the shed to get
your bags back, right?"
Elisabeth shook her head in renewed denial: "It was
something I made up, that's all. It never really
happened. Please don't talk about it."
"Fine, we won't talk about it. I'll just tell my boss
that you've got a psychological problem you don't want to
discuss," Scott replied calmly. "Personally, Elisabeth, I
think you're that kind of nice girl who gets hot and
bothered every time a bunch of bikers ride past. I think
you have a real desire to be made to perform group sex
and I also think that's something that could really turn
you on to working for a terrorist cell. Being gangbanged
in a back room by a bunch of unshaven tough guys waving
AK-47's around would really make your day, wouldn't it,
Elisabeth? Even it wouldn't be quite such a nice thing to
happen to such a nice lady."
"That's not true! I don't want to do anything like that
and I'm not going to talk about it."
"You don't have to argue with me, Elisabeth. If you say
you don't want to talk to us, no sweat. We've already
said all we came to say, so we'll walk."
"No, no, please don't go," Elisabeth begged urgently.
"This would kill Peter. Please, I'll do anything you want
me to do to prove this is all a mistake."
"Will you?" Scott asked mildly. He raised his shoe again,
resting it on the seat between her legs.
"How about undoing my shoe then?"
Elisabeth hastily moved to obey. She didn't understand
what was happening but she did know that whatever
happened she had to keep Peter out of this nightmare. Her
fingers were shaking so much that she'd probably have
gotten a lace completely knotted, but the agent's shoe
had a Velcro tag that came loose with a single tug. He
dropped his foot to the floor and eased it out of the
shoe.
"Elisabeth."
Scott's fingers closed together like crab's claws and
then he pushed his hands forward to indicate that he
wanted her to pull her skirt further back along her legs.
For the first time she suddenly understood what Scott
wanted from her.
"Elisabeth, it's a simple deal. If you want us to risk
our asses to cover yours, then the least we expect is a
piece of it in return. Hey, look at me when I'm talking
to you."
She raised her eyes to his. Scott's cold blue irises were
examining her as dispassionately as a technician
inspecting a malfunctioning computer. Only the curve of
his lips and an air of tension seemed to reveal how much
he was enjoying Elisabeth's humiliation.
"What's more, nice lady, if you really need some exciting
moments to make your life complete, then you don't need
to deal with any outsiders. The United States government
will be happy to supply your therapy. In our time and for
free."
Elisabeth gasped and looked over the desk towards
Catherine. The female agent was still smiling, apparently
neither surprised nor shocked by Scott's words.
"Go ahead, don't mind me, kids. Go on and enjoy
yourselves. I've got my own agenda here, but we'll
discuss that later."
Scott's stockinged foot rose and rubbed itself slowly
down the side of Elisabeth's left calf. It felt hot and
slightly scratchy. Her legs began to tremble.
"Elisabeth, I'm still waiting. Do you want me to put my
shoe back on and leave?"
"No, no."
Elisabeth reached down to her black skirt and slowly drew
it back over her dark pantyhose to a point well past her
knees. Scott's foot settled on the seat again, as before,
except this time it was down flat on the leather. Then it
slid forward in pursuit of the retreating skirt, the toes
disappearing out of view under the rucked up hemline.
Elisabeth instinctively closed her legs against the
intrusion, trapping the toes between her thighs. She
gasped and glanced towards the door. Christine rose and
went over to it, securing the lock.
"Don't worry, nobody is going to come in for a while,"
Scott said reassuringly. "The way your boss reacted to
our ID, he's probably hiding out in the broom closet by
now. So I think you'd better open your legs again, Ms
Manning."
Oh God, they were all looking at her and what else could
she do but obey the agent's order? The arch of the foot
caught against her skirt, drawing it tight against the
outside of her knees as she spread them apart in
obedience to Scott's commands. The toes slithered towards
once more, as far as they could between her thighs, then
burrowed underneath them until they were jammed below the
gusset of her panties.
"Huh!"
Oh God, the amused look on the watching faces as those
damned toes made her grunt by wriggling around underneath
her pussy. This was crazy, Scott was virtually ravishing
her, even without a stitch of clothing being removed and
with his arms still folded as he kept talking.
"Can you tell us some more about this camp thing,
Elisabeth?"
His foot had twisted around a little, the toes were
rubbing up against the valley below her thin
underclothing and her voice quivered as she tried once
again to make him understand the truth.
"It never happened, it never happened. Nothing like that
has ever happened to me. I made it all up."
Scott nodded as if he understood.
"OK, well, as agents we all think that we're pretty good
at knowing when people are telling us untruths. That's
what we're supposed to be trained for. So you tell us
everything you told your boyfriend in LA, word for word,
and we'll have a vote afterwards on whether or not you're
just a plausible liar. Jarrel, you want to help me out
here?"
"Sure."
Scott removed his foot from where it had been and knelt
down to take a firm grip on Elisabeth's calf. She was
surprised, even more so when Jarrel did exactly the same
thing with her other leg.
"Up."
The two agents worked as a team, both lifting her feet
off the carpet and pulling off her shoes.
"And up some more."
At Scott's order the men rose and lifted her feet in
their hands, pressing her spine deep into the back of the
big swivel chair. The wheels underneath it rolled the
chair up against the wall, leaving Elisabeth's legs
stretched out and parted in front of her, her toes up at
the same level as her chest. Scott and Jarrel were each
holding one of her feet between their clenched knees and
lightly massaging the soles with their thumbs.
"Oh!"
Elisabeth was dumbfounded. Dumbfounded at their audacity,
at their teamwork, and at the effect their joint caresses
were having on her. Again, it was as if she was nothing
but a piece of machinery which needed certain things
doing to it to get it working as they wanted. The problem
was that they seemed to be know where all her starting
buttons were and how to push them.
"Now, Elisabeth, we'd got to where you two girls and the
two boys had gone into the boat shed together. Right,
what happened then?"
Elisabeth opened her mouth to protest once again that it
was only something she'd dreamed up in a hot moment but
changed her mind before she spoke. Whatever these people
wanted to hear from her, that was what they were going to
get. As long as she got Peter out of the line of fire.
"There were three more boys in the boat shed as well.
They'd been waiting for us. With two fishing rods."
"I love this bit," Jarrel said. "Go on."
"They grabbed us and held our arms by our sides while one
of them put the fishing lines through our earrings and
tied them there. Then they turned us loose and started
playing with us. Playing with us in two ways, I mean.
They started grabbing at us and when we tried to step
back the guys with the rods wound us back into the middle
of the shed again like we were hooked fish. I mean, it
really hurt to have your ear pulled on like that. When a
guy tugged the rod and wound in the line on you there
wasn't anything you could do but walk towards him."
Scott smiled and began tweaking her toes, starting at the
big one and moving along the row to the little piggy.
Jarrel tickled the bottom of her right foot and Elisabeth
gasped, then grabbed at the armrests of the chair as she
was forced to wriggle around by his scratching nails.
"Wow," Jarrel exclaimed as he stared at Elisabeth's
breasts heaving around underneath her crisp white blouse.
"Catherine, how about coming around here and loosening a
few buttons for Elisabeth?"
The female agent strolled around the desk. In her hand
was a small video camera with the viewing screen opened
out. Elisabeth's eyes widened in shock at seeing it, a
reaction the dumpy agent had already anticipated and was
ready to record.
"Don't worry, Elisabeth, I'll keep this tape for private
viewing only," Catherine said. "But anytime I want some
information from you about anything going down in this
office, you'd better tell me quickly. In fact, if
anything happens around here I should know about you call
me in the next five minutes, otherwise you're going to
have even worse problems than you've already got. So lie
back and enjoy getting laid through this one."
The agent put the camera down carefully on Willard's
desk, then knelt down over the chair and began
unbuttoning the buttons down the front of Elisabeth's
blouse.
"Set the scene for us some more," Scott demanded. "What
were you wearing when this thing at the camp happened?"
Elisabeth tried to remember exactly what she'd written.
It was difficult to concentrate while a set of neatly
trimmed nails were undoing her blouse buttons in front of
two smiling men. Especially when their fingers were doing
things to her feet which were sending high voltage shock
waves clear up her spine.
"A swim suit. We both were. The one piece kind because
counselors weren't allowed to wear bikinis at the camp."
"How old were you both?"
"Eighteen. I was anyway, and I think Anita was too."
"So I guess you'd have grown yourself a good pair by
then. Well worth the handling. Jesus, they are now,
that's for sure."
Catherine had finished undoing the blouse and held the
sides open for her companions' interested inspection.
Elisabeth had slid down in the seat until her face was
almost hidden behind her white bra cups. It was crazy,
but she wasn't so upset about having to show off her
underwear as she was about the agents finding out that
she was wearing plain cotton panties and a bra bought at
a Hecht's two-for-one sale. Oddly, that seemed a greater
intrusion into her privacy than the act of being
stripped. Go figure.
Jarrel tickled her foot again, and then Scott did the
same with the one he held. Elisabeth yelped, before
Catherine's hand pressed down over her lips, forcing her
to snort like a surfacing dolphin as she flung herself
around in her chair, clearly aware of how much the agents
were enjoying their horseplay with her -- especially
Scott and Jarrel.
When they finally stopped tickling her feet and
Catherine's hand was removed from her mouth Elisabeth was
panting as if she'd run up a flight of steps, curls of
blonde hair hanging down around her forehead.
"Now, Elisabeth," Scott said, "We'd got to the stage
where the boys had hauled you back into the middle of the
shed. I guess they had plenty of time after that for
whatever they wanted to do. You couldn't run and you
couldn't fight back, could you? So what happened next?"
Both of the agents were stroking her feet again, harder
this time, and Elisabeth knew that they knew how excited
she was getting. This wasn't possible: three hours ago
she'd been getting off at L'Enfant Plaza station for just
another day at the office. It was impossible that this
could be happening to her in Willard's office with the
picture of Willard shaking hands with the Secretary of
Transportation still hanging on the wall. Any minute now
she was going to wake up in hospital with somebody
telling her she'd drunk a morning cup of coffee laced
with LSD.
"Elisabeth -- talk."
"The guys with the rods held them up over our heads and
made us stand still with our arms by our sides. Then the
others felt our breasts. Three of them were around Anita
at the start, with her hands all over her. They made her
kiss each one of them as well, French kissing."
Jarrel seemed fascinated.
"So did one boy hold the rod tied to Anita's ear while
all this was happening?"
"Yes. They took turns at holding it with the tip over her
head and sometimes the boy holding it would lift it up a
bit to make her stand on her tiptoes. They did that just
for fun a few times, really enjoying having a counselor
in a situation like that. Anita was wriggling like a
landed fish, especially when they began a kind of game
with one guy standing behind her holding her breasts
steady while the other two boys sucked on her nipples
through the wet fabric of her swim suit. After a while
she was making the sort of noises that girls do when they
trying to stop something happening that they don't really
want stopped at all."
The agent's thumbs were kneading away ever more deeply
into Elisabeth's soles as she was forced to open her soul
to them.
"So what was happening to you while your friend was
getting her assets handled?" Scott asked her.
"My swim suit was still wet as well and it was like I was
wearing nothing. The boy who had me on the end of his
line was laughing because he could see that I couldn't
take my eyes off what was happening to Anita. He could
see I was shaking like a jelly and my nipples were
puckering up and it wasn't just because of the cold. He
told me to get ready to show off my bare tits to
everybody. Then he called out to the other guys that I
was ready for some of the action. By that time Anita
seemed like she was already halfway out of her mind. She
was licking at one guy's ear and stroking all of them she
could reach. It was like her being a counselor and the
boys being a gang of thugs didn't matter at all to her
anymore."
Jarrel sniggered. "You tell this well, Elisabeth. So how
did you read the situation at that stage? How far did you
think these guys were going to go? After all, they were
younger than you and your friend, I guess."
"Yes, they were younger, but they were a bad bunch, a
known gang. Football jocks, those kind of guys who
thought they could do whatever they liked. All the
counselors had had problems with them, and I knew that
nothing would make that bunch happier than totally
humiliating both of us. But unless somebody came to the
boat shed it seemed they'd be able to do whatever they
liked with us. As far as I could see it was down to how
much the gang were willing to risk, and they seemed to be
the kind that can get away with almost anything. What
amazed me was how easily they'd gotten us in that kind of
a situation."
"And Anita seemed to be liking what they were doing to
her?"
Elisabeth nodded: "The guys certainly seemed to have a
lot experience in handling girls. I could tell that
before they'd even laid a finger on me."
Scott looked around and across the desk to the female
agent: "Catherine, how does this match up with what's on
the emails?"
"It's the same story, near enough. Except that she told
her boyfriend in LA that having to stand and watch the
gang feeling up her friend was the most exciting thing
that had ever happened to her in her life until then. She
also said that when they came over and pulled the top of
her swim suit down around her waist she nearly fainted
while she was waiting for them to start mauling her tits
for her."
Jarrel moved forward against her foot, until it was
pressed against the groin of his pants. Elisabeth felt
the sensitive skin of her sole rubbing against tightly
stretched fabric and Jarrel's stiff cock on the other
side of it.
"I'd like to have seen that myself," he said.
Jesus, now her other foot was somehow up against Scott's
groin, and he was using it to deliver another tactile
message from a male member with attitude. Surely it was
impossible they were planning to lay her across
Willard's desk and fuck her? Elisabeth didn't know, but
it seemed for sure that they were expecting the full
Monica from her. Two men, at the same time, with another
woman taping her going down on them ... holy blowjobs,
Batwoman!
"So would I," Scott agreed. "But since we missed out on
the boatshed, how about we settle for a look at
Elisabeth's tits here and now?"
Jarrel eased her foot up and down against his cock: "Yes,
I'd like to watch Elisabeth shaking her bare tits around
in front of us."
"No problem," Catherine said calmly. "Stand her up and
I'll do the honors for you."
The two male agents replaced Elisabeth's feet back on the
carpet, came alongside the sides of the chair, took an
arm each and helped her up onto shaky legs. Catherine
came around the desk, the camera held up in front of her,
and then moved out of Elisabeth's sight behind her back.
Willard's horse faced wife looked disapprovingly at the
scene from a large photo on top of the desk. Elisabeth
had never seen the front of the photo stand before and
wondered how Willard could feel that looking at a picture
like that improved his day. Perhaps it made him feel
better about being at work instead of at home. On the
other hand Mrs. Willard was probably doing her dutiful
domestic chores instead of having her hands firmly held
as her blouse was pulled down to her wrists and her bra
clips tugged apart. Now Catherine's fingernails were
scratching against Elisabeth's skin as the bra shoulder
straps were eased down.
"Here you are, guys," the female agent announced. "From
public service to pubic service in one easy movement."
The straps continued dropping, down past Elisabeth's
elbows, taking the bra cups with them. Her unsupported
breasts tumbled out, each nipple screwed up tightly as if
squinting against the sudden light falling on them.
"You were right, Jarrel. Nice boobs. Great to look at and
hardly any sag at all."
Elisabeth was aware of Scott raising his hand, and then
his fingers were slowly running across the top of her
stomach, close enough to the bottom swell of her left
breast for his thumb to brush against it.
"Good skin. Feels like a woman should. And her perfume is
a knockout as well."
Well, it was nice to know that her investment in some
expensive Estee Lauder hadn't been wasted. Scott's breath
rustled against the nape of Elisabeth's neck, lips
brushed against her shoulder so lightly she wasn't quite
sure whether she was imagining their touch or not. But
there was a definite kiss falling on her left ear.
"Is this the ear where those boys tied you to that
fishing line?" Scott asked.
"Or was it on this one?" Jarrel wanted to know.
"Uh..."
Elisabeth gulped deeply as both her ears attracted the
attention of tongues, and then of lips and nibbling
teeth.
Scott's fingers gently rose up underneath her bared
breast and cupped it as though he was lifting a piece of
precious porcelain. An action matched by Jarrel's hand on
the other side of her body. Since Elisabeth's wrists were
still entangled in her blouse sleeves there was no way
she could even try to fend the groping hands away. Which
also saved her from an equally futile struggle with her
conscience.
"Which one was it then?" Jarrel asked again. "Your left
ear or your right one? On this side?" He gave a firm
squeeze to the soft flesh he was holding
"Or this side?" Now it was Scott's turn to apply pressure
to her. Elisabeth could hardly remember what she written
in those fucking emails, her mind was in a whirl of
complete confusion.
"My left ear -- it was my left ear."
Catherine Haught's arm had come around from behind
Elisabeth, her hand brushed against one of the exposed
nipples, the left one, a set of sharp nails pinched
sharply around it.
"This side? Are you sure, Elisabeth?"
"Yes! Please, don't touch me like that."
"Leave her alone, Catherine," Scott ordered. "You're
happy to let two guys deal with your case, aren't you,
Elisabeth?"
Somehow she was nodding her head as each of the men took
a firm grip on one of her nipples. They scrunched them up
slowly and carefully, as if crumbling Styrofoam cups
between their strong fingers. Elisabeth looked down at
what they were doing to her and spread her hands out
against the folds of the fallen blouse. Stretched them
out to where her feet had been rubbing against hard male
flesh and found those places again. God, both cocks were
fully locked and loaded, thrusting strongly against her
palms. Looks like an early lunch break for you today,
Elisabeth, she found herself thinking. Which meant that
she must be going mad, but it seemed like the right day
for it. And the right company as well. Because, without a
word being spoken, Scott and Jarrel sat down on the desk
again, side by side, and drew her towards them by hauling
firmly on her tightly held breasts.
"Is this what that gang did to you?" Scott asked. Before
filling his mouth with her nipple and a generous helping
of soft flesh behind it.
"Or was it more like this?" Jarrel lightly bit her other
nipple and held it between his teeth as he swirled his
tongue around it.
"Aaah..."
Elisabeth moaned deep in her throat. She squirmed and
stamped her feet on the carpet like a child in a tantrum,
fighting to get her arms free from the folds of the
blouse. The agents were hauling up her skirt around her
waist in an untidy bundle. As soon as her panties were
uncovered a hand slid between her legs. Whichever of them
it belonged to, he was running a finger backwards and
forwards on either side of her mound, in the creases
between her outer lips and her inner thighs. Combined
with the attention her breasts were receiving it was a
kind of caress which could send a woman out of her mind
with desire.
"Enjoying yourself, Ms Manning?" Catherine asked
sarcastically. The agent's elbows were resting on the
desk as she kept the camera firmly aimed at Elisabeth's
face.
Bitterly ashamed of her own excitement, Elisabeth looked
away, to her left and right, seeking something to keep
her view averted from that small glass eye. But all she
found to stare at was an FBI warning poster about how to
deal with suspicious objects. For the first time
Elisabeth began to have some sympathy for suspicious
objects, now that she was one herself, and getting a
increasingly thorough official investigation. But
Catherine wanted to hear answers.
"So, Elisabeth, how did you feel in the boatshed while
the boys were playing around with you? Did you get a cunt
full of love juice, just like you're getting now?"
Elisabeth knew she had to answer.
"Yes, yes! They got me as hot as hell. They felt my butt
all over and one put his tongue inside my mouth. Then
they started blowing on my nipples and kissing them. Then
they started playing with them in their hands and telling
me how they had a lot of rubbers with them and how both
of us girls were going to get fucked out of our minds."
"And what about Anita? How was she dealing with the
boredom of being left out of the main action?"
Elisabeth knew that Catherine already knew the answer to
that, but the female agent obviously wanted her male
buddies to hear again what had been written in those all
too revealing emails.
"The guy with her was holding his rod up alongside him
with the end on the floor and Anita was down on her knees
in front of him opening the zip of his jeans. And as soon
as she'd gotten his cock out she held it with one hand
and began giving him a blowjob. It wasn't like he was
pulling on the line or anything to force her to do it, he
was just standing there and laughing at this counselor
sucking his cock without even being told to. Then he
called out to one of the other boys, and the boy took a
camera out of his pocket and took a picture of Anita with
her mouth full of dick. Then they walked me over there as
well and told me I was going to have to help Anita out."
"Do I have to guess what happened next?"
"No... God!"
Elisabeth felt as if her teats were about to explode
inside Scott and Jarrel's mouths. Finally, they freed her
hands from the blouse and she grabbed at both men's
pants, fumbling at the fly zips until they opened.
"You did some cock sucking yourself, hey, Ms Manning?"
"Yes, yes. It was crazy, what those guys did. There was a
small flat-bottomed boat made of aluminum, upside down on
some stands. One of the boys stripped off and lay down on
top of it, and we had to stand on either side of him. The
guy holding my rod was next to Anita and the one with
hers was next to me. Then another came back with a canoe
paddle. The big guy who was the leader said that the guy
on the boat would call out our name and then tell us to
rim him, or lick his balls, or take as much of his prick
in our mouth as we could. And if either of us didn't do a
good enough job the guy holding our rod would bend us
over the boat and we'd get the canoe paddle slapped on
our ass until we learnt to liven up."
Catherine giggled: "So did you get paddled, Elisabeth?"
"Yes, yes. The guy on the boat, the first one, he wanted
to come in my throat, and he said I wasn't swallowing
enough of his cock, but it was so big. So they used the
paddle on me, and then on Anita, and told her to hold my
head down by holding my ears while I was face fucked. And
I nearly suffocated before he blew off into my throat.
Then they made Anita lick some of the cum off my lips
while the next boy was lying down on the boat. Jesus...
will you guys get started on me, please! "
Elisabeth had her fingers around Scott and Jarrel's cocks
now, pumping away strongly as is they needed to be wound
up like clockwork before they could function. Scott
removed his lips from the slippery patch of saliva coated
skin around her aching nipple, then gave it a final quick
bite before issuing his orders.
"Bring her round the front, Jarrel. Get the chair around
there as well, Catherine."
Elisabeth didn't know what Scott had in mind, but she
soon began to realize as he put the chair in the middle
of the office and then tilted the back of over as far as
it would go, to about forty five degrees.
"Keep telling us about your boating adventures,
Elisabeth," Catherine demanded.
"It went on for what seemed like ever, with us giving
them blow jobs. They pulled off our swimsuits and their
fingers were up our cunts all the time we were bent over.
We had to keep wriggling our bare asses for the rest of
the gang to watch and if you didn't have your mouth full
you had to keep begging them to fuck you. If you didn't
shout out loudly or often enough you got a tap from the
paddle as a reminder.
"Then the boys put Anita down on top of the boat on her
back, and then they made me stand at the other end. Then
they lifted up her legs and told me to hold onto her
ankles while they lined up to fuck her. She was staring
up at me between her knees with her eyes rolled back and
squealing away like a puppy being trodden on. And every
time a new boy began pumping her the camera flash went
off again."
Elisabeth was finding it harder and harder to keep her
story anything like coherent as Scott finished his
preparations. He took his own jacket and Jarrel's, folded
them and put them on the top of the seat backrest. Then
he put his tie underneath one armrest and Jarrel's red
silk tie underneath the other one.
"OK, Elisabeth, time for some intensive interrogation
techniques."
She was moved forward, against the seat, the tops of her
thighs against the folded jackets. She gasped as the men
forcibly bent her forward, so far forward that she had to
press her palms down against the edge of the seat itself
to support her weight. The pain on her lower stomach
would have been intolerable without the cushioning effect
of the two jackets. Then she felt the ties being drawn
around the back of each of her knees and tightly knotted.
"Oh God!"
She was a prisoner, her legs secured on either side of
the chair, her feet on tiptoe, the upper part of her body
bent forward and down, with her butt stuck out behind her
as though on display. Which it was, and even more so as
her skirt slid down her inclined back until the hem was
hanging around her shoulder blades, her blouse underneath
it. Elisabeth's hands squeezed against the polished
leather below her hands as exploring fingers moved up
between her pinioned thighs. Air blew out between her
lips like steam from a boiling kettle.
"Isn't this how you wanted it. Ms Nice Lady?" Scott
demanded. "You told your boy friend you got it doggy
style in that gang bang. So tell us about it."
"God ... God! The guys took me to the other end of the
boat. Then one of them told me to kneel on top of the
boat support. It was like a plank with a rubber mat on
top of it to stop the boat getting damaged, so I could
put my weight on my knees without it hurting too much.
But I had to put them down on either side of the boat,
with Anita's legs underneath me, and then they bent me
forward so I was showing them absolutely everything.
That wasn't all though, because my face was so close to
Anita, we were looking in each other's eyes, and our tits
were piled up against each other. And then the jerks tied
the fishing lines to both our earrings so we couldn't
move our faces away from each other. The bastards... they
lifted up Anita's legs against mine, and they put a belt
around our knees on one side and tightened it, then they
did the same on the other side, so we couldn't move our
legs either. And while we were in that position I got my
first show and tell fuck from some boy I couldn't even
see while Anita screaming in my face because the other
guys were fingering our clits at the same time."
Elisabeth tried to catch her breath. Only to have it
snatched out of her lungs as two pairs of hands began
pulling down her pantyhose, their strength overcoming the
increasing tightness of the material as it forced over
her opened thighs until the waistband was cutting into
the very bottom of the curve of her buttocks. Cool air
flowed around the exposed wet patch in her briefs, but
only for a second as the fingers returned to the promised
land.
"Oooh..."
"Don't worry, Elisabeth, Scott's getting his clothes off
now. You keep talking and I'll get you ready for him. You
want that, don't you? You want a really good fucking for
the camera, hey? So keep us interested. Keep talking
about how you counseled those guys in the boat shed."
"Jesus, Jesus, the next one put his cock into Anita's
cunt, then into mine, and then right up my ass!"
Elisabeth jerked against her restraints like a mare
smelling a stud stallion as Jarrel dragged her panties
down to the same level as her hose. A twanging sound
sounded across the office as the over stretched waist
elastic snapped and the panties were left hanging around
the tops of Elisabeth's legs like windblown laundry.
Catherine giggled and circled the scene, the camera at
her face staying aimed at the chair all the time.
"Elisabeth, I've got to show this to some male friends of
mine sometime," Christine cooed. "They are just so going
to love watching you get fucked in that position. And
aren't you loving it too, Ms nice lady?"
"Yes ... Oh, Sweet Lord!"
Jarrel pulled her ass cheeks wide apart, put his lips
against them and gave her a Bronx cheer right up the
butt. Then his tongue trailed a wet path down into her
cunt, right onto the swollen lips spread out like budding
rose petals covered with morning dew. The tongue ran
around on them as if trying to decide on a place to
finally settle, sending Elisabeth into a moaning fit of
desire.
"Jeeeeesus... fuck me!"
She heard Catherine call out mockingly: "Come on up,
Scott Heynig. You're wanted."
"OK, but put your hand over her mouth again or the whole
building will hear her sounding off when I give it to
her."
Elisabeth made no protest at Catherine's fingers covering
her mouth: she concentrated on sucking in as much air as
she could between them while she had the chance. Jarrel's
tongue finally touched her clitoris, his fingers stroked
the backs of her tied legs and the chair rocked and
creaked underneath her weight as Elisabeth convulsed
again.
"Hold on, sweetie, Scott is just putting the rubber gift
wrapping on your government issue work bonus," Catherine
cooed. "Now, I'm going to take my hand away far enough
for you to tell us how many times you got reamed out in
that boat shed."
"Ah ... I don't know. They all had me, one way and
another, and Anita as well. Then they told us that when
we went home on the bus on the last night of camp we had
to be wearing stocking and high heels and no panties.
They said they were going to put us together on the back
seat and we were going to have our heels hanging over the
top of the seat in front all the trip home. They said
every boy riding on the bus was going to have a ride on
us as well ... God! God!"
Catherine's fingers pressed against Elisabeth's lips
again, cutting off her rising voice. "I don't know
exactly what you're doing back there, Jarrel," the girl
said, "But it seems to have Ms Manning interested. OK,
guys, let's see the bulls start charging."
Jarrel's tongue left Elisabeth's rigid clitoris, the
wetness of his saliva mixed with her own juices. His
fingers were no longer stroking behind her knees, she was
being left to melt in her own fires. Until another,
rougher hand patted her left ass cheek and squeezed it
like a rider reassuring a nervous horse. At almost the
same moment something hard and incredibly smooth nestled
in between her cunt lips, parted them, and then entered
all the way into her, boldly going into places she could
have sworn no man had reached before. Oh, God, Scott, you
fit into me like nobody else ever has!
"What's she like?" Jarrel asked.
"She's good and tight. I think she needs a lot more
fucking than she's been getting. Christ, be careful of
your fingers, Catherine. The noise she's making, she
might bite them off."
"Ms Manning won't dare bite me," Catherine answered. "Not
unless she wants to lose some teeth. Give her a few more
deep ones and see if she'll shake her tits for us."
Scott's hands clamped around Elisabeth's waist, he lunged
forward hard enough to make her hands almost slip off the
chair and her hanging breasts swayed around like balloons
in a breeze. From behind her Elisabeth could hear her
cunt squelching and popping as Scott's body slammed into
her buttocks with grunts of effort. Christine used her
free hand to tug on Elisabeth's ear.
"It's a pity you can't see what you look like right now,
Elisabeth, ass up and panties down, but don't worry, I'll
make sure you get a complimentary copy of the tape. In
fact I'll make sure you sit down and watch every second
of it."
"Hey, how about me," Elisabeth heard Jarrel call out.
"Don't I get a turn?"
"We'll let Elisabeth choose," Scott said. "Watch this."
His cock was taken out of her cunt and he moved the chair
around a quarter turn. Now only Catherine was touching
her with her hand over her mouth, and even that was
removed. Elisabeth was left panting on top of the chair,
aroused, untouched and almost weeping in frustration.
"Please, guys, please ... I need more!"
"No problem." It was Scott's voice. "Your feet are
touching the carpet. You can swivel around to your right
or left. Go left and Jarrel will shaft you, come right
and I'll give you some more. Which do you want?"
Catherine laughed and leaned her head towards
Elisabeth's, to whisper in her ear. "Don't quote me on
this, Elisabeth, but Jarrel has a bigger dick than
Scott's. I'd go for a ride with him if I were you."
Elisabeth dug her toes into the carpet and the chair
creaked like an ungreased windmill in a fading wind as
she struggled to turn it to her left. Around her the
agents laughed as Ms Elisabeth Mary Manning fought to
swing her naked ass around inch by inch, a government
bureaucrat no longer caring about her situation or shame,
all her emotions stifled by an overwhelming desire to
have a man mount her again.
Jarrel called out to encourage her: "Twenty degrees left
to go, Elisabeth ... ten degrees to go ... five degrees,
almost there. All stop, down anchor And here comes the
torpedo."
Catherine's hand clamped down over Elisabeth's lips again
just in time to stop her first squeals of gratified
pleasure from echoing around the office. Then they parted
to allow a thick fleshy plug to be inserted in
Elisabeth's mouth. Catherine giggled and Scott muttered
in encouragement as Elisabeth sucked on his cock in total
surrender to his demands.
Jarrel laughed out loud and gave her a thrust from behind
with a prick so long and powerful it seemed like it had
come off a NASA launch pad. Elisabeth almost choked on
Scott's dick and felt as if her ears were about to pop.
Then Jarrel's fingers rubbed against her clit and she
exploded as if he'd pulled a pin from a grenade.
Elisabeth thought she was dying. Until her eyes opened
again to see and feel her nose rubbing against the blonde
hairs of a man's pubic patch. They were tickling her
nostrils and if she sneezed now she would certainly die,
of suffocation. But, God, she was alive and living in a
fever of excitement as two men pleasured themselves on
her trapped body any way they wanted to.
Catherine's fingers tugged hard on Elisabeth's ear: "Be a
good girl for us, Ms Manning, and there'll be plenty more
of this. For starters, you're going to email some
pictures to Abbas Sarak showing how you got tied down
across a chair in your office by a couple of guys who
used you like a total slut. Then you're going to tell him
you're visiting LA and ask him to get a few friends
together to meet you. I guess he'll oblige. And after his
raghead gang have finished fucking you every which way
you'll tell them where you work and what your husband
does. If they get interested in any of that then we'll be
interested: understand?"
Elisabeth body was already building up for another
climax. As she realized what she was going to have to do
for Catherine the orgasm racked her body, stiffening
every muscle like a lightning strike as her ravishers
emptied themselves into her with shuddering gasps of
triumph.
"Oh well done, Elisabeth," Catherine chuckled. "Ask not
what your country can do for you, ask instead how many
men you can do for your country."
THE END
(Like to read some more stories like this -- many of them
fully illustrated? Stop by www.f-e-mail.com sometime and
browse around)
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 20